


Wonderful Unknown

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I thought we were past this stage," Will murmured, gathering Mac's hair in his hands. "Isn't this a first trimester thing?"<br/>"Apparently, with your kid, it's an any trimester thing," Mac muttered. </i>
</p><p>Post-finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonderful Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> This became way more sappy than I had originally intended. Oh well. The title is from the Ingrid Michaelson song. I would like to thank Emily and Emily for convincing me that sap happens. If not for their reassurance, this would have stayed in my draft folder for-ev-er (I hope you read that Sandlot style. Because that's how I intended it.)

"I thought we were past this stage," Will murmured, gathering Mac's hair in his hands. "Isn't this a first trimester thing?"

"Apparently, with _your_ kid, it's an _any_ trimester thing," Mac muttered, retching into the toilet. Will rubbed her back and reached over to wet a washcloth, laying it on the back of her neck.

She chalked it up to stress at first, the exhaustion so bone deep that it felt like every part of her was tired. After all, her husband was in prison, her company had been bought out, she was fighting with Charlie daily about things she _knew_ he agreed with her on. It wasn't as if she was sleeping well, or at all. It didn't occur to her that it could be anything other than the obvious.

And then.

That first night home she and her husband of 52 days cried, limbs tangled together in bed, and that turned into feverish kissing, desperate hands roaming each other's bodies, and when Will's hand reached for her breasts, she cried out in pain.

"What? What?" He had stopped, panicked, and she had quickly kissed him.

"My breasts are just a little sore, I must be PMSing," she answered, running her tongue down his neck to distract him. Will, in turn, gently and reverently kissed each breast.

After Will had finally fallen asleep, Mac started doing the math in her head. The pieces began to fit together. She made an appointment with her doctor for the next day, slipping out after a rundown meeting. In the wake of Charlie's death, no one even noticed her gone.

Mac rocked back on her heels, and let out a shuddering sigh, pulling the washcloth from her neck and accepting a second one from Will's outstretched hands to wipe her mouth.

He was frowning at her, his face settled into the same worried look he got every morning when she dove from their bed into the bathroom.

"I do _not_ have time for this today," she moaned. "I'm already going to be late for my meeting with Pruitt."

"Fuck him," Will answered. He stood and reached down to tug her to her feet. He pressed a kiss to her temple and she leaned against him for a minute.

Mac was now fifteen weeks. Will had bought a book that he consulted on a regular basis, and Mac always knew when he had read about some sort of complication because he would get a panicked look on his face and hover around her more than usual (his hovering had gotten pretty old, pretty fast, and Mac was quick to shut that down.

"You're so much farther away now, what if something happens?" He whined.

"I'm just on a different floor," she said, exasperated. "I'm still in the same building, for God's sake.")

At his behest, Jenna had compiled the list of hospitals in the city, and came up with _at least_ three routes to each one, ranking them by distance and potential for traffic. Mac had just rolled her eyes when Will had insisted on presenting the information Jenna gathered in a Power Point presentation.

"It's just good to be prepared," he had argued.

"You're ridiculous," she replied, but she humored him, because he was _so_ excited about the baby, and she was excited about the baby, and it just felt _good_ to be _this_ happy about something without anything else getting in the way for once (their happiness was tempered slightly, Charlie’s death cast a long shadow. Will was right, Charlie would have loved to have been there for this, and it seemed fucking unfair that he wasn’t).

Mac moved away from him, and picked up her toothbrush.

"Well, I'd rather not fuck him, if it's all the same to you," Mac deadpanned. "And I'd also just as soon skip his comments about my 'delicate' condition becoming a hindrance to my ability to do my job." She spit into the sink."Whatever woman lands Lucas Pruitt is one lucky lady." She rolled her eyes. Will chuckled, reaching around her to grab his own toothbrush.

Will had flipped his lid the first time he heard Pruitt refer to Mac's pregnancy as something other than the blessed event the rest of the newsroom saw it as.

He had turned bright red, and Mac had jumped in immediately, a calming hand on his arm.

" _Don't_ ," she had told him in a low voice. "We fight the fights worth fighting. This is not worth it, Will. It’s _not._ "

It still made Will's blood boil, the insinuation that MacKenzie couldn't do her job _and_ have a baby. His wife was the single most capable person he knew. Lucas Pruitt was an idiot, but if Mac wasn’t letting it get to her, than Will was going to do his best to follow her lead.

“I bought those crackers the doctor suggested,” Will told her, moving from the bathroom into the bedroom to get dressed. “And I had Jenna run out and get natural ginger ale. It’s in your office.”

“You’re too good to me,” Mac tugged her pajama top over her head and caught the bra that Will tossed to her (it was one of her first pregnancy purchases, softer maternity bras, the buying of which lead to a fashion show for a very enthusiastic Will).

“Yeah, well, I kind of like you,” Will smirked at her. He slid his arm around her as he passed, brushing a kiss along her cheek.

“In that case, I think we’ll keep you,” Mac grinned at him, and Will felt his breath catch like it did every time he thought of it. _We_.

Mac finished getting dressed, buttoning the maternity pants (the second pregnancy purchase, made after she finally had to admit defeat. Her pants refused to button, and forget about her pencil skirts. That was a lost cause). She froze, her hand coming up to her mouth as she took deep breaths through her nose.

“Hon?” Will asked, and she shook her head slightly. Mac didn’t move, eyes fluttering shut as her hand flew to her stomach.

“Please, baby, _please_ ,” she murmured. “I don’t have _time_ this morning.” Will held his breath and waited, and after a few seconds passed, he was cautiously optimistic the danger had passed, and then Mac shook her head and darted into the bathroom, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet.

“You shouldn’t wait for me,” she said between heaves. “No sense in both of us being late because _your kid won’t listen_.”

“Yeah, okay,” he ignored her as he knelt down to rub her back. “At least we’re both dressed. It’s a step in the right direction.”

“A better direction would be out the door,” Mac muttered. With Will’s help, she stood on shaky legs, reaching one more time for her toothbrush.

“Take it easy,” he said softly. “We’ll get to the office when we get to the office.”

“We’re going to be late,” she whined.

“I know, but it’s okay,” he kissed her forehead as she turned around. “I’m sleeping with the boss. I’ll put in a good word.”

“I think it's passed,” she sighed, sliding her hand down his arm until she could lace their fingers together. She tugged him out of the bathroom. “I’ll text Pruitt on the way and tell him I’m going to be late. I can’t _wait_ to hear what he’ll have to say about that.” They made their way through the apartment, Mac’s hand still firmly in his, his thumb running down the back of her hand.

He didn’t point out the fact that Mac had been at the office until well after eleven the night before, or the day before _that_ when she had spent nearly fourteen hours at the office, trying to deal with Jane Barrow’s temper tantrum (which had resulted in Jane finally quitting, something she had been threatening to do since Mac had been promoted.

“Who’s stopping you?” Mac had asked, which Will guessed was the final tipping point.

The newsroom had broke into applause when Mac announced Jane’s departure, and Mac had flashed Will a broad smile.

“It means more work for me, but my _God_ is it worth it,” she confessed.)

“You can blame me,” Will suggested as they stepped out of the apartment.

“Oh,” Mac said, breezily. “I plan to.” She smiled cheekily at him over her shoulder as she stepped into the elevator and hit the lobby button. Will couldn’t help but pull her to him, dropping a kiss into her hair to hide his smile as the elevator doors slid shut behind them.


End file.
